


Dripping Down

by KoruChaos



Category: Bendy and the Ink Machine
Genre: AUs, Attempt at writing colorblindness, Balancing issues because paws, Bendy is a child, Boris tries, Hearing Voices, Henry has an existential crisis in the middle of the studio, Joey Drew did not start out as a bad person, Joey is kind of a shithead sometimes, Memory Loss, Murray Hill is the Perfect Boris, Non-Consensual Body Modification, Old memories, Perfect Boris doesn't remember being Murray Hill, Poorly written angst, Poorly written humor, Reflection on the past, Reincarnation, Scars, Shawn Flynn is not dead, The Lost Ones make me sad, The obligatory sickfic, The toons hate thunderstorms, poorly written fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-14
Updated: 2018-05-07
Packaged: 2018-12-15 05:09:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 22
Words: 11,624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11799063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KoruChaos/pseuds/KoruChaos
Summary: Yet another oneshot collection, because I apparently can't get enough of those. Expect sad Sammy, inconsistencies, lots of universe-hopping, even more stupid shit, and probably dead bodies later down the line. AUs are mine unless mentioned otherwise.What a shitshow.(If you haven't noticed already, I like writing about depressing things and people dying. If you don't like things like that, I suggest you don't read this.)Update as of April 23rd, 2018; Tags have been updated to be less cluttered. I can link a screencap of the old ones if asked.





	1. A Shrine to a Time Long Gone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sammy is depressed and I can't write for shit.
> 
> Takes place in the main AU.

As Sammy walked into his new, makeshift office, he stared at the desk, which was the first thing he'd decided to “fix,” though fixing it didn't really mean actually repairing it- what it meant was moving the vast amount of memorial clutter from his old desk to the new one. He just thought “fix” sounded better than “relocate a bunch of random things,” and Joey would have agreed if he were still there. Nobody really knew where he'd ended up, but since Sammy probably was the only one left, it didn't really matter anyways. He shuffled over to the desk to look at some of the things he had accumulated on his desk.

The things that people would notice first were the three plushies, simply because they were so much bigger than almost everything else around them. The plushies- one of each of the main characters, Bendy, Boris, and Alice- were something Sammy had been intending to give to his son as a birthday present. Next to them was a framed picture of his wife, Nancy, his son, Benjamin, and himself, with his wedding ring on front of it. There was no way Sammy was going to let his wedding ring get dirty.

On the opposite side of the desk, there was an old trilby and a pearl necklace. All he had to remember his parents by. He didn't know whether or not they were still alive. They'd be a lot older, probably. He wasn't sure how much time had passed since he got trapped in the studio, but it felt like an eternity. There were some drawings Benjamin had made in crayon underneath the hat, most of which were of Boris. Benjamin had always liked canines.

Next were the nametags. Henry's had a little drawing of Boris on the left side of his name, and one of Bendy on the right. Sammy had drawn surprisingly clear music notes on either side of his name, which was written in such terrible chicken scratch that it was barely legible. Joey's just had a little heart on the right. The nametags had been placed on a pile of envelopes Henry had sent them, containing letters that Sammy wouldn't be able to open without messing them up so badly he wouldn't be able to read them.

In the desk's drawers were notebooks and binders. Most of them were scripts and storyboards, but there were a fair amount of music sheets and drawings there too. His favorite notebook was a black one that had a bunch of character designs in it. He wouldn't be able to open that without messing it up either, but he'd memorized the entire thing by the time the place got flooded. He most distinctly remembered some of the beta designs for Bendy, but there was also a family for the Little Devil Darlin' that never made it into the show, aside from the sister character. She'd showed up as the villain in the pilot and finale episodes, but hadn't been in the show beyond that.

But his favorite thing was pressed up against the back of the desk, behind the envelopes and nametags, and in between everything else, where it could be clearly displayed. It was a picture of Henry, Joey, and himself. Sammy could clearly remember that day. He remembered everything from the color Henry's socks had been to the fact that Joey had managed to not smoke a single cigarette that day, which could have been considered a minor miracle back then. Henry had looked like a mix between a waiter and a surfer, with his tuxedo and long-ish blond hair, blue eyes glittering in terrified joy. Joey had been in a much better mood than usual that day, and hadn't even reprimanded Sammy for wearing annoyingly bright clothes. He'd been so excited that he'd buttoned his shirt wrong and hadn't noticed, black hair fuzzy from not being brushed, and even didn't give anyone the irritated brown-eyed glare he was so well known for. Sammy had made sure to wear his most annoying clothes- a bright purple dress shirt, a bubblegum pink bowtie, and white overalls that were slightly too big for him. Anything that clashed with his brown hair and green eyes was good enough for him, and he sure as hell got some strange looks that day.

Sammy sighed quietly. He wished time travel was real so he could go back to before Henry left. When things hadn't been so bad. When he'd had a family, when he'd had friends, when Bendy still recognized him. When he'd been able to sing. Dear God, he missed singing.

Too late now, he supposed. Might as well make the best of it.

Whatever the hell that meant.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been dead for a while, haven't I? Sorry if you were expecting more Five Nights at Freddy's stuff, I'll get around to writing more for that when I get more inspiration.


	2. What a Mess

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alpha runs for her life from a monster that is most decidedly not physically a monster.
> 
> Takes place in the What Came Before AU.

Alpha pelted down the hallway, her feet clattering loudly against the floor, breathing heavily. As she rounded a corner and pressed herself against the wall, she silently cursed herself for not taking her high-heels off, though she doubted going barefoot would have been much better if she still wanted to run. Moving quickly with splinters in your feet didn't sound any easier than running away from something with perfect hearing in the loudest shoes imaginable.

Speaking of her pursuer, she could hear him walking closer, whistling a cheerful little tune, tap shoes clicking almost mockingly against the wood. At least he didn't seem to feel like chasing her. Granted, he'd probably slip and fall from the metal on his shoes if he tried to run after her, but it was still a small victory to her. She'd been thinking for too long- he was far too close for comfort now. It was time to run again.

As she fled down the remainder of the halls and into the main room, she realized that if she could get to the entrance in time she might be able to get out alive. She sprinted towards the door, cackling shakily in nervous excitement, only to stop short with a look of horror on her face as she saw an open trapdoor blocking her only exit. It wasn't a jump she could make on her own. Carefully backing away from the hole in the floor, she hoped that the man following her wasn't near-

Only to have her hopes crushed when a cold piece of plastic shoved her into the open pit.

Beta readjusted his grip on his cane as he approached the trapdoor's entrance to look down at whatever might remain of Alpha. All that was left of her were a few new splatters of ink on top of those of many other versions of her and Dev.

“You know,” Beta mused to himself, “she'd probably be more likely to fly if she had wings. I should give her wings next time.” He wandered back over to one of the walls of the main room and marked down the fifty-sixth time he'd tried to make Alpha fly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, I'm actually being kinda productive? It's a miracle!
> 
> In case things aren't clear here (which they probably aren't because I suck at explaining things without exposition), this is an AU where a beta design of Bendy was brought to life before the official Bendy, he decided to ruin things before any other characters could be made, and ended up making way too many copies of Alice and Boris' beta designs just so he could do something with them to not be so bored all the time. Turns out his idea of a good time is murdering everything he can.
> 
> As for names, Beta is Bendy, Alpha is Alice, and Dev is Boris.
> 
> Oh, and Beta doesn't actually need his cane. He just likes the way it looks, though he can use some Toon Logic to turn it into other things if he feels like it.


	3. Necrophobe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Henry has a little time to himself and decides to use it to ponder what death feels like.
> 
> Takes place in the main AU.

Henry was never the kind of person who thought about what it would be like to die. He'd always been a “stay in the moment” type of guy, only ever stopping to think about things like death when it was obvious it would have something to do with him or the people he loved.

Now that he was in the old, decrepit studio, he had a lot of time to think about dying. It felt like he was surrounded by death, with everyone who used to be there gone, and even the building withering away. Death seemed like a very definite possibility, especially when it came to how he might be able to escape, since all the exits were blocked off and the strange monsters that roamed the halls were hellbent on keeping him inside with them.

Things like this were the sort of things that used to keep him up at night, though the strange little episodes were fewer and farther apart now that his parents were gone. There was less to worry about when you didn't directly know anyone anymore. He still thought about it sometimes, usually when he thought about the old Sillyvision crew, and wondered what happened to them. The thought of them being dead had seemed incredibly far-fetched back then, considering the only person who had been older than him was Wally, and even then neither of them were very old. Or at least would have been, in Wally's case. Now there was no doubt in his mind that everyone he used to know was gone forever.

Henry's family had never really been religious, either, so he probably wasn't going to get into heaven _or_ hell when he died. He would most likely end up stuck in purgatory, or floating forever through an endless void. Neither option seemed very appealing. He certainly had enough motivation to keep himself alive by now.

He sighed quietly, shaking his head slightly as he walked forwards to the exit at the end of the stairwell, only to get hit in the back of the head with what felt like a wooden board.

Well, there went his plans for staying alive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually have pretty intense necrophobia myself, so I'll probably have a small existential crisis later. Maybe I shouldn't have written this. Oh well.


	4. Boredom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beta is bored, as usual.
> 
> He finds nothing interesting and is just as bored as he was in the beginning by the end of this, except he's also a little more ticked off.
> 
> Takes place in the What Came Before AU.

Beta sat in the small room near the ink machine, radio playing faintly, feet up on the desk. This was the only mildly normal room in the entire studio now, and even then it was still questionable at best, with empty cans of bacon soup strewn across the floor, notebooks and stray pieces of paper all over the desk and a few of the shelves, and the radio itself not seeming to need any assistance to operate on its own. Still, it was better than the mess he'd made everywhere else, and he'd take whatever he could get at this point.

He glanced at the papers for a few seconds, eventually deciding that going through them would be less boring than sitting there listening to the same songs he'd heard hundreds of times over, even if they just turned out to be old files on who had been working there at the time. He might get a chuckle out of that if Joey had a sense of humor.

Shuffling through the stacks of old drawings and photos, Beta finally found something that caught his attention- a woman who looked vaguely like Alpha, albeit with a longer dress and shorter horns. He supposed this was probably Alice, since Alpha had evidently been deemed not 'child-friendly.' Next was a picture of someone who looked like a taller, less dressy Dev. That must have been Boris, then. There didn't seem to be any reason that Dev had been dropped in favor of Boris, but his design was slightly more complicated, which probably made all the difference for the animators. The thing after that was just a picture of Bendy- nothing new, he saw those all over the studio.

As he flicked through the pile of paper in his lap, he quickly realized there was nothing really very new at all in there, and irritably tossed it over his shoulder, not reacting at all when they hit the door.

Beta immediately picked up a notebook, and glanced at the cover. 'Employee Records.' Exactly what he'd been looking for, something he hadn't seen before. He gave the book a huge grin that could have been described as ear-to-ear if he actually had ears. Eagerly smacking the notebook open on the desk and re-adjusting himself accordingly, he stared at the first page, excited to see that Joey Drew didn't seem to be the dry, cynical bit of sandpaper everyone else had thought he was.

The first file was, of course, of the same man who had written the notebook- Mr. Drew himself. The file consisted of a drawing of the tired director, his name and age, birth date, hair and eye color, height, next of kin, occupation, and a few other things like that Beta couldn't be bothered reading. His gaze had already gravitated towards a surprisingly large section at the bottom of the page that was simply labeled 'Notes.' Joey's notes section was entirely self-deprecating, and mostly talked about how he never knew a good time for a deadline, though one of them did say 'constantly bored and therefore fiddling with something.' “You and me both, buddy,” Beta snickered to the page as if it could hear him.

The next file was of Henry Williams, the head animator. The only things very interesting about his page were his height (6'3”), one of the notes ('too nice for his own good'), and the fact that a label had been hastily slapped onto the page with a sticky note, which simply said _**'temporarily retired.'**_ If Beta ever met Henry he'd have to ask what the hell that meant.

The third was of Sammy Lawrence, head of the music department. Nothing about him as a person was very interesting, from his hair color to his height, so the only thing really worth looking at was his note section. Sammy's notes consisted almost entirely of weird behaviors Henry and Joey had noticed over the years, ranging from the boring ('usually tapping out a rhythm on a table'), to the unusual ('can string up to fifteen curse words together in one sentence') to what he found hilarious ('will jump on top of a desk and scream if he sees a spider').

Flicking through the folder, Beta stopped when he got to some of the more prominent employees- or just ones he thought might have something funny about them in their notes. Next up on the chopping block was Wally Franks, a very forgetful janitor that had been lucky to not have gotten fired on his first week at Sillyvision. His notes mostly just rambled about how annoying he was to deal with, with only one of them saying anything interesting. His only, well, _noteworthy_ note was 'always brings an umbrella in case one of the pipes breaks again.'

Susie Campbell and Norman Polk weren't much better, with Susie's notes only really talking about her being really nice or getting into arguments with Wally sometimes. Norman's file at least said something funny- the best note on his page said that, despite his unshakable persona, he was actually pretty easily scared, and 'screams like a little girl if you can sneak up on him.' Avery Ferguson was equally boring, with his only note simply stating that he was a music fanatic that lost his records constantly and got angry about it every time it happened.

Beta grumbled in annoyance when he realized he was already at the end of the notebook, and glared at it like it had betrayed him before throwing it forcefully at the wall, causing it to bounce right back and hit him in the forehead, earning it another reproachful look and a string of swears that would have made Sammy proud. “Can't even kill twenty minutes, can you, you bitch?” He huffed irritably.

“Well,” Beta sighed, “Might as well go through the rest of these. Maybe someone else is funnier than Joey. Probably wouldn't take much.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for this being really long and rambling, I don't really have much motivation right now, even though I have at least three other stories with their beginnings written.
> 
> I should probably finish those before I write anything new.
> 
> Also, Avery has literally nothing to do with anything and is barely a character, I just like that name and needed another person to talk about. Once again, sorry if you were expecting something more interesting, I haven't eaten much today and I only got about four hours of sleep last night.
> 
> Oh well, maybe I can get one of my other AU stories finished soon.


	5. Please Don't Leave

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Henry's been keeping a secret, and Joey wants to know what it is.
> 
> Whatever he'd been expecting, it wasn't this.
> 
> Takes place in the main AU.

Joey chuckled to himself quietly as he walked through the hallways. He could hear Sammy excitedly screaming his lines, with Susie having to raise her voice to similar levels just to be heard over all the yelling. She was a pretty loud person sometimes, but even she had trouble keeping up with the sheer speed and volume Sammy delivered his lines with most of the time. The fact that she could be heard at all was actually kind of impressive.

Turning his thoughts away from that, Joey moved over to Henry's new desk. Henry was a good artist and a wonderful animator, but had a tendency to move his desk around every time a new employee was hired to make room for them. He was too nice for his own good sometimes, if you asked Joey, but some of that sentiment was probably just from how annoying it was to have to memorize a new path just to be able to talk to the head animator right after you got the previous one down.

Joey grabbed a chair from the main room before he went to Henry's desk. He was likely going to be there for a while and didn't want to have to stand up the entire time. When he got over to Henry, he quietly set the chair down and tapped his friend on the shoulder before sitting down. Henry jumped slightly at the sudden contact before turning around to look at the director, a small smile on his face. “You could at least say something before you try to grab me,” the taller man said in his usual soft voice. “Sorry, I just forget. You're the only one who really does that when I touch them,” Joey mumbled, mouth pulled into an apologetic grin. Henry just shook his head, smile still in place, and returned to his work. “So,” he stated, “I assume you want to talk to me? There isn't really any other reason for you to be here.”

“Um... Yeah,” Joey sighed. “I do want to talk. I've heard some rumors floating around and I want to know if they're true.” Henry's seemingly ever-present smile started to falter. “What kind of rumors?” Joey put his hand up against his face to block the sudden sullen expression on his friend's face. “People were saying you want to leave, but nobody said why, and they clammed up when I asked so I just stopped trying to get it out of them.” Henry's smile finally disappeared completely, and was quickly replaced with something neither of the two men could really describe. He looked lost, almost.

Henry slowly put his pen down next to its inkwell and turned to Joey, the look on his face the most serious the tired director had ever seen from the animator. “I do have to leave, but that doesn't mean I want to. My parents are going to be retiring soon and they need someone to look after them, and they don't trust anyone else to do a good job.” Henry looked just as emotionally drained as Joey felt at the moment. “I don't want to have to leave you guys, but I need to take care of my family,” the animator murmured, “Please don't think that I'm trying to get away from you. I promise if I leave I'll write as often as I can.” Henry moved Joey's hand from the smaller man's face, tipped his chin up so they could look each other in the eyes, and smiled sadly.

“You promise?” Joey asked. It was a simple question, but the answer meant all the world to the both of them. “I swear on my life.” Joey finally smiled back at his old friend. It was weak and hopeless, but it was still a smile. Henry moved his hand to Joey's shoulder for a few seconds before pulling him into a tight hug, which was returned almost immediately.

“I should probably tell Sammy, shouldn't I?” the director whispered to the animator. “He'll be heartbroken.” Henry just nodded silently. There wasn't really much else to be said.

After a few minutes, Joey finally extracted himself from Henry's arms, waved goodbye with a tired smile, and solemnly walked off to try to find Sammy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoa, I did something with dialogue?! It's a miracle!
> 
> Also, headcanons galore, holy shit.


	6. New to the World

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He doesn't remember how he got here, but he's glad he has someone to help him.
> 
> Takes place in the Failed Sacrifice AU.

As the man woke up, the first thing he noticed was exactly how much his head hurt. Shaking his head slightly (and immediately regretting it), he opened his eyes, and realized his vision was far blurrier than he thought it should have been. Trying to blink whatever the offending substance was out of his eyes, he looked up, and was rather startled to find another person in front of him, who was staring at an open door in what seemed like shock. The other... human? It didn't seem human, slowly let out a huge breath of air it had apparently been holding and turned around to face him, only to jump in fright when it saw him looking at it.

“Um, you, ah, are still alive, I take it?” The other thing asked, though it seemed less directed towards the man and more like a poor attempt at breaking the strange silence. Its voice was slow and raspy, like it hadn't used it for quite some time and wasn't quite sure how to sound normal again. The man nodded silently, and looked down at himself, quickly noticing the ropes wrapped around his body, and looked back up at the thing in front of him quizzically. Said thing stared nervously back at him for a few seconds before speaking again. “I'll explain that later,” it mumbled, “For now, I suppose I should introduce myself. My name is Samuel Lawrence, but I would prefer Sammy. I am merely a humble Prophet, and serve my Lord to the best of my abilities.” It stayed silent again, this time like it was expecting him to say something. When 'Sammy' eventually guessed that the other man didn't understand what he meant, he asked the question he seemed to have thought wouldn't have to be said. “What is your name, sir?”

The man in the chair tried to think of what his name was, but failed to come up with anything and just shook his head in response. Sammy still wasn't talking, but bent down over the other person and placed his hand on the man's left hip, patted it slightly, and repeated the process with the right hip, straightening up again with something in his hand. The man vaguely recognized it as a wallet, but couldn't think of a reason why the ink-covered maniac would want it. Sammy held the wallet open, yanking a few green pieces of paper out of it so he could look through it easier before just completely upending the leather pocket, causing a thin rectangle of plastic and several dozen circular pieces of metal to fall out onto the floor. The thin lunatic let out a triumphant “Aha!” as he found what he was looking for, and yanked yet another piece of paper out. The only things that seemed to be special about it was that it was white and not as long as the green ones.

“Your name is Henry! Henry Williams, says it right here on your license! You're fifty-five, six feet and three inches tall, and had blue eyes and blond hair.” Sammy's excitement quickly petered out when he finished reading the physical description. “Oh. Oh, dear.” He fell silent again, staring at the other man, a slight look of terror about him as he started shaking. “Well, does that name sound right to you?” The other man looked quietly at the floor for a few moments, then back up at Sammy, smiling slightly as he nodded. Sammy let out a nervous laugh, before saying “Good, I was hoping I wouldn't have to find a new name for you,” voice cracking nearly every other word. “I guess I should untie you now, huh?” Henry just made an expression that clearly said 'Finally.'

As Sammy wrapped his arms around Henry to untie the ropes, Henry noticed that he was still shuddering, with even his breath coming in quick, shallow bursts. It was almost like he was trying to keep himself from crying. Sammy quickly took several steps back as soon as the ropes keeping Henry in place fell to the floor, but moved closer again when he saw that Henry was having trouble standing up on his own, slinging the taller man's arm around his shoulders for support, and clapped him on the back, causing Henry to cough up a large glob of ink. “Well, hopefully you'll be able to move around on your own soon,” the Prophet murmured. Henry coughed another blob of ink out, and quietly hissed “Yeah, hopefully.” Sammy looked up at Henry in shock, before letting out another, slightly less scared laugh. “Look at you, already talking again. I swear it took me years to do that.” Henry smiled back at the masked man, and wordlessly patted the top of his head.

He would have trouble getting used to existing, but if he had his new friend with him, surely it wouldn't be too bad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, yeah, Ink Henry isn't an original idea, I know. I'm bored, just let me have this.
> 
> Also, Sammy's fear when he finishes reading Henry's license is there for a reason. You can probably guess why.


	7. The One Where Henry Thinks About How Wrong Everything Went

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bad title for a bad story. I'm not used to writing fluff or humor, sorry.
> 
> Takes place in a pre-chapter 3 Good Ending AU.

There was exactly one thing that had gone right today. Henry had driven to the studio with minimal traffic and gotten in, and that had been the end of where whatever his plan had been went correctly.

Wandering around a desecrated studio that had once been something similar to his home, preforming a bizarre ritual just to turn on a machine that hadn't been there when he'd left, and then falling through the floor while he ran away from an incredibly malformed living cartoon? Not part of the things he wanted to do today.

Doing something annoyingly similar on the floor he'd fallen to, killing things that may have once been employees, getting hit over the head by a crazed music director, and finding a walking, talking, breathing Boris? Way too confusing to have been planned.

Getting attacked again by the apparently not dead masked lunatic, accidentally making said lunatic burst into tears, and having to wrestle Boris to the floor to keep him from trying to run away from or murder the once-fearsome sobbing mess in the corner? _**Definitely**_ not.

Pulling two nervous wrecks through the maze-like hallways by their wrists, finding Alice and a Bendy that was nearly identical to the one from the cartoons, and, once again, fleeing from Not-Bendy? That hadn't been on his to-do list either.

Yanking the somehow mostly unharmed corpse of Joey Drew off of the pipe it was impaled on and watching it slowly come back to life? Perturbing and unexplainable, and most certainly not something he'd intended to do in the next millennium, let alone today.

Probably being killed by Not-Bendy or the searchers, being brought back to life by the ink that had very nearly drowned him on several occasions, and having just enough time before he had to run away again to question his entire existence? Nope, no thank you.

Being caught by Not-Bendy, having Real Bendy explain that he'd only been chasing him because Real Bendy had told him to so he could try to get him to take them out of the studio, and dragging “Inky” along with him? Absolutely terrifying, and also absolutely unplanned.

Somehow actually managing to get to an unblocked exit, little ragtag “family” in tow, and finally leaving? Probably the best stroke of luck he'd ever had.

Struggling to find a way to fit everyone in his car, eventually settling on having Bendy, Alice, and Boris sitting in the back seat, Bendy on Joey's lap, Sammy in the passenger's seat, and ending up jamming Inky in the trunk since he couldn't fit anywhere else, with maximum amounts of unintelligible complaining and mess being reached? Henry doubted even fifty bottles of acetone would be able to clean the inside of his car, there was no way he'd have done that on purpose.

Watching Sammy practically throw himself out of the car door when the car had slowed to a reasonable speed and run to his house, tripping over the hems of his pants every ten steps or so and yelling something about taking a shower all the while? Hilarious, but no.

Letting everyone else out of the car (getting hit in the face by Inky in the process), unlocking the door to his home so everyone could get in, and regretting having carpets as soon as Sammy pelted in? Dear Lord, no. He was not looking forwards to the cleaning bill. Getting the carpets taken out would probably be a pretty good idea.

Introducing the newcomers to his pets? Quite possibly one of the worst decisions he'd ever made.

Forking over some of his clothes to Sammy and Joey after they took showers so they had something clean to wear, despite said clothes being far too big for either of them? No, and they were definitely going shopping soon.

Screaming when he looked in the mirror because of the white notches in his pupils, making them look like horrific pie charts, and causing everyone to run up the stairs to check on him? The sentiment was appreciated, but he wished he'd been able to keep his mouth shut.

Cooking what had to be the largest amount of food he'd ever made, finding out that Inky didn't actually need food, and learning that Bendy was probably the pickiest eater in the universe? Entertaining and slightly annoying, but still not something he'd been intending to do.

Trying to get everyone to bed and realizing that he was now essentially taking care of a child, five adults, and a nervous teenager when Bendy and Boris refused to let go of him? Also unplanned. He'd have to try to find a teddy bear or something later.

Eventually just sitting down on the couch and letting the brothers cling to him? Adorable, sure, but not part of his plan for the day.

Was he going to regret this later? Yeah, probably.

Did he regret it at the moment? Not one bit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm terrible at writing anything fluffy or silly, my apologies. Also, my "guesses" at what would happen in a good ending are really fucking dumb.


	8. Not actually a chapter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm takin' requests. This is just kinda an announcement thingy.

Heya!

If you have any prompts, feel free to send them to me! I have a lot of ideas right now, but I also have one hell of a writer's block, and I think having some new ideas might help.

However, I do have a few rules.

#1- Please, for the love of god, no porn. My account is not the place to be if you want smut.

#2- No ships. I don't ship anything in this fandom (or at least won't have any in this collection), and prompts aren't going to change that. I'm sorry in advance.

#3- I love AUs just as much as the next guy, but please don't ask for things from AUs that aren't mine. I'm terrible at writing other people's characterizations, and I don't want to absolutely butcher it.

#4- Prompts probably shouldn't be too long. I'm not saying that I won't use a three paragraph long prompt, but it's less likely to be used than something that's only a couple sentences.

And lastly, #5, I'll only consider using prompts left on this "chapter." I'd like to keep all of the ideas in one place so they're easier to find.

Anyways, that's all I have for now. Thanks in advance if you throw me a bone!


	9. Reinkarnate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Suggestion 1 from MsFaust- Reincarnation (of humans and/or Toons).

Joey awoke with a loud coughing fit and the sudden realization that there was something in his eyes. He quickly straightened up from his position of lying on the floor, desperately rubbing the substance off of his face. When he finally got all of the dark stuff out of his vision, he stared at his hands, noticing that they were far different than he remembered.

As in, four-fingered and covered with white gloves different. That was not normal. Jumping to his feet and looking around his surroundings, he noticed that it seemed very much like the studio, if half of the pipes broke. Walking over to a large, reflective puddle of ink, he peered in to look at himself. Instead of the familiar human face he'd been expecting, there was a large cartoon of a black cat, with a white dress shirt and a crumpled black necktie. It was an exact, albeit three-dimensional, copy of the drawing Henry had made of the studio head when asked what the main trio would look like in the show.

The only thing Joey could think to do at that point was scream like a little girl.

That was exactly what he did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, yes, taking a serious subject and making it goofy. One of my few talents.  
> The other is taking a goofy subject and making it serious, which doesn't really make sense as I'm not a sad person and don't like being sad. Whatever.
> 
> If you have any prompts, please leave them on chapter 8!


	10. Astraphobic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The toons find out that real-life thunderstorms are far scarier than the ones in the show, even though you're far less likely to suddenly be struck by lightning.
> 
> Takes place in whatever you want to call the AU in chapter seven.

Bendy woke up to a faint flash of light behind his curtains and a loud, low rumbling noise shortly after. He had no idea what it could be- as far as he knew, the sky was falling or a volcano had just erupted nearby. All he knew was it was terrifying and he hated it. Squeezing his teddy bear a little tighter, he rolled onto his back in the event that he might have to get up really quickly.

He shot up into a sitting position with a loud squeak and curled up against the headboard when there was a knock at his door. “W-who's there?” the tiny devil whimpered. “It's just me and Boris,” came the soft, also mildly terrified voice of Alice. “We wanted to know if we weren't the only ones who heard that and saw that light.” Bendy hesitantly got out of bed, still clutching his bear, and opened the door. Alice looked just as freaked out as she'd sounded, and Boris was clamping his ears to the sides of his head, shaking and trying not to cry. He looked a little like he was about to throw up. “Yeah, it wasn't just you guys. Maybe we should try to find dad.” The angel twitched slightly at the term 'dad,' but nodded without saying anything and grabbed Boris' elbow to drag him downstairs. The huge wolf didn't need any incentive to follow her, and Bendy tagged along after them.

Henry was, as expected, sitting in the right corner of the couch, reading something with a very dull cover and strange title, a blanket over his lap. He seemed to either not have noticed the noise and flashing lights, already tuned them out, or not find it noteworthy enough to be afraid of. Or maybe humans just weren't as prone to being afraid of things like that? That could be it, too. The artist barely even reacted when Boris unhooked himself from Alice's hand, pelted around the armrest, and practically attached himself to the human, other than to put his arm around the canine's shoulder, pull him a little closer, and move the blanket to cover both of them.

“Are you two going to come over here?” the man asked, voice hushed despite the fact that there was nobody who would be woken up by a regular speaking voice that was asleep at the moment. Alice quietly followed Boris' path and sat down between them, making room for herself and pulling the blanket back out from under her legs so she could be under it too. Bendy just walked up to Henry, rolled the blanket away slightly, and curled up in the animator's lap, who pulled the blanket over them one last time, bookmarked what he'd been reading, and put it on the desk next to him.

The toons fell back asleep pretty quickly, and Henry had conked out almost as soon as he put his book down. By the time morning finally came around, the storm had subsided, leaving only gray clouds and rain in its wake.

Surprisingly enough, Joey turned out to be the first one awake that day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This only exists because there was a little thunder in our area for a few minutes and I actually had inspiration.
> 
> Also, Boris freaking the hell out is partially because I think of him as a pretty nervous character in general, and one of my dogs is terrified of loud noises. She hides in a corner when we turn the stove fan on because she associates it with the fire alarm. It's cute, but kinda pathetic. She hates Independence Day. The other one doesn't care at all.
> 
> MsFaust, I promise I'm not forgetting your Susie prompt, but I've managed to get stuck on that, too. Sorry- I'll try to have the next thing be that.
> 
> Oh, speaking of prompts, if you have any that you'd like to let me use, feel free to leave them on chapter 8.
> 
> Also, this isn't really important to anything, but the book Henry's reading is Brave New World by Aldous Huxley. I finished reading it last night because I was dumb and didn't sleep at all, and I kinda wanted to do something with it.


	11. Perfect Match

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Joey's having trouble making his cartoons look and act like cartoons, and he only has one shot left to make the perfect character.
> 
> Who better to use than man's best friend?
> 
> Takes place in the main AU.

Joey sighed quietly in frustration. Alice had been so close, even if he had to use both of her actresses, but yet so far. His attempt at a Bendy was laughable, as he didn't want to use himself as a host and Sammy was smart enough to avoid both Joey's office and anything that had anything to do with the ink machine. His last shot was making a perfect Boris.

But who was he supposed to use?

At first he'd thought of Wally Franks, but quickly realized that he was too annoying to be a good Boris. Then his mind went back to Sammy, but there was the aforementioned problem with that, as well as the fact that the music director lent himself far easier to Bendy, even though the overalls the cartoon wolf wore had been a cue taken from him. What about Norman? No, Sammy would miss him too much and start complaining even more than usual. After that there was the idea of using someone expendable, like Grant Cohen, Thomas Conner, or Shawn Flynn, but he wanted this one to be as good as possible. He'd thought of using Henry, but he'd have to somehow lure him back to the studio after only a few years of departure, while the animator's parents were surely still alive.

Then it hit him. He could use Murray Hill.

Murray Hill was almost a perfect fit- intimidatingly tall and a loner, the man almost never spoke, often attempting to duck out of conversations by claiming the ink machine was running louder than usual or that he thought a pipe had broken again, rushing off as fast as he could to be rid of the situation, usually hitting his head on the comparatively short doorframe. He even knew how to play clarinet. And best of all? He worked the nightshift, making it so that he almost never interacted with anyone, usually being too tired to realize when people were talking to him.

Yes, that could work. And if it didn't work right off the bat...

Well, he'd just have to _**make**_ it work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just throwing in my two cents on who I think the perfect Boris is, and what I think happened with 'Alice' and 'Bendy'. And as a bonus, I get to flesh out my version of Murray Hill a little bit, even if he doesn't actually make an appearance yet. Also, Murray as Boris may or may not be almost entirely because my ToonSwap design of him bears quite a resemblance to Boris. Just maybe.
> 
> I'm up for prompts (as long as you leave them on chapter 8), but unfortunately I probably won't be able to work on your second prompt (the Susie one), MsFaust. Chapter One's changed a lot and I'm not really up to reworking the pieces of the story I've got together already at the moment. I'll try to do it at some point, but not right now.


	12. Unlucky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dialogue prompt 1/2 from MsFaust- _Susie... thank God you aren't here._ You _were the lucky one..._

Allison stared down at her stained, slowly shifting fingers. Watching the ink steadily climb up her limbs could only make her wonder what, exactly, Joey Drew had been doing. He'd seemed like a nice person, but something must have gone wrong somewhere along the line.

Seeing the personalities of her coworkers morph and change for the worse had not been a good experience, even if she hadn't worked there for very long.

Joey, for instance, was a kind man at first, but as the studio's morale declined and other employees started going missing or losing themselves in their own minds it began to chip away at even the ever-present cheeriness of their boss, leading him to lock himself away in his office and ignore anyone who tried to enter.

Sammy had taken the most drastic shift, turning from a generally happy person with a few anger issues to someone who apparently existed on a seprate plane of reality that was made entirely of hatred, then into an obsessive cultist freak.

Wally... well, Wally actually didn't change that much other than being a little more tired than usual.

Norman's personality twisted from an already cynical grouch to a spiteful, nearly lifeless being that stuck to the shadows and avoided conversation like the plague, instead opting to stay on the sidelines and learn what people did. For what? Blackmail? Knowing how to interact with people better? Just wanted to be creepy? Nobody ever really figured that part out.

Then there were Grant, Thomas, Shawn, Johnny, and Murray, who had all just vanished without a trace.

As for Allison herself? She didn't really think she'd changed all that much, and most of her coworkers seemed to agree. On the other hand, now that she was the only person left in the lower levels, she knew she wouldn't be able to hold on to her own mind for much longer. The screaming voices and problematic state of her physical stability had barely even manifested, yet they were already becoming a major issue.

Even if she'd been rivals with Susie, she couldn't help but be happy that the younger woman had left. Allison had originally thought that she was lucky for being able to work alongside one of the most well-known animation studios of the time, and that she'd been the one to assume the role of Alice Angel when Susie had been fired.

“Oh, Susie,” Allison murmured to herself, “thank God you aren't here... _You_ were the lucky one.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, jeez, this was weird to write. I'm personally in the camp of "'Alice' is Susie and Allison combined", but it was kinda interesting to make something from the point of view of an 'Alice' that's just Allison. Though I'm honestly not even sure if you meant for the dialogue to be from Allison or someone else, so maybe I screwed up really badly. Also this took thirty minutes or so to write, so sorry if it's super awful, I have chores to do right now and I wanted to get it done because I liked the idea.
> 
> Feel free to leave prompts, but please, only on chapter 8.


	13. Little Voices

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Henry is a patient man, but this voice is already getting on his nerves.
> 
> Dialogue prompt 2/2 from MsFaust- "Hey, try clicking on the tape recorder. Maybe that does something."

Henry was jolted out of his thoughts by a very annoyed-sounding voice in his head that definitely did not belong to him. “Hey, try pokin' that button on the tape recorder. Maybe that does something.” He blinked a couple times and looked around him, trying to find a source that wasn't from his own mind, but eventually gave up and pressed one of the buttons on the little machine, resulting in an unintelligible but satisfied grumbling noise from the voice as a recording of Wally Franks played. “You do remember where the break room is, right?” Henry huffed slightly and nodded. He might have been gone for a very long time, but he still knew the place like the back of his hand. “Good.”

He was greeted by a very strange sight in said room, as any tables that had once been there had been removed and replaced with little pedestals, small pictures behind each of them signaling what was supposed to be put there. “The music note means a record if that's any help.” He waved off the little voice and began to wander around the building to find the key items, though that certainly didn't stop it from telling him where they were.

“And the wrench is with Boris. Might have to get'cher hands a little dirty to get it, but that won't really be sayin' much, will it? You're already a mess.” Henry sighed. “Ah, jeez, that's right. Boris would be new to you, wouldn't he? He's in the room next to the break room.” The human hummed softly and began to make his way over to the break room again, turning where the voice told him to, and promptly let out a startled squeak at the sight of the desecrated corpse propped up in front of him. The voice just snickered at him in response. He quickly yanked the wrench from the dead cartoon's chest cavity and pelted back to the break room, all too happy to be away from it. He placed the objects on their respective pedestals, noticed the flashing light next to the lever, and let out a quiet groan. “The flow button is in the projector room. Oh, and the little locked door next to Wally's recording should be open now, so you can check that out.”

As Henry walked to the projector room, he decided that he might as well see what was in that locked door, making another loud squeak when a cardboard cutout peeked out at him, eliciting a laugh from the voice again. The animator snarled something under his breath and stalked away to his intended destination, jumping slightly when another cutout poked its head out from around the corner. He glared at it as he entered the room, pressed the button, and stared in disappointment as a leak sprang up in his way. He was wearing one of maybe three actually clean shirts he owned, too.

Irritably muttering to himself as he walked through the stream, he paused his movement as something clattered through the pipes. The voice didn't seem to have any annoying quips or jokes, as it kept its silence. He shook his head. If the rest of the place was any indication, whatever that had been wasn't anything to worry about either, just a cheap trick designed to get a reaction from someone. He began moving again, albeit more cautiously this time, and slowly made his way back to the break room so he could pull the lever. “Okay,” the voice mumbled, suddenly quieter, “now you just need to get the ink machine unclogged. Should be fine after that.” Henry nodded as he went to the ink machine...

Which was blocked off by haphazardly placed wooden boards that certainly hadn't been there before. He stared in confusion, then carefully walked up to them to get a better look at what was happening behind them, letting out his first legitimate shriek of the day as a malformed, dripping hand swiped at his face. He ran as fast as he could to the exit, the floor flooding with ink, only to fall straight through the floorboards into another lake of ink.

The voice sighed softly. “Well, this doesn't look very good for us.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I shouldn't have taken so damn long to update, sorry. I've been a little sick lately and at some point I just stopped using my computer and I didn't really remember that you can actually write stories here on your phone.
> 
> In other words, interpret the voice however you want. It was supposed to be me being a salty bitch when I started writing, but I think it came off more as a mildly sassy adult version of toon Bendy. It works better like that, honestly, so I'm not complaining.
> 
> Also I have no idea what I was trying to do with this chapter (comedy?? drama?? find out more at 9), so it's probably all jumbled and weird. Sorry.
> 
> Feel free to leave prompts, but please keep them on chapter 8. It's got all the guidelines on it.


	14. Fixing Errors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He's so close to getting it to work.
> 
> Main AU, sequel to chapter 11/Perfect Match.

Joey huffed in irritation when he saw the results of his newest experiment. He honestly thought it could have worked, but apparently it would need a little bit of a push to be perfect.

Carefully prying the wolf-like creature from the table it had been strapped to, he sat it down in a chair so he could get a better look at what exactly went wrong. Thankfully it was still unconscious.

Now that he was able to look at it up-close, there were lots of little imperfections, a few of which wouldn't be able to be fixed. For instance, it was still too short, and he couldn't think of a way to stretch it out to its intended height.

However, most of them were minor errors that could be fixed quite easily. He started by ripping the gears off of the toon's gloves, and he sighed in relief when there wasn't any visible damage to the fabric. Next was reshaping the ears, which was as simple as pinching them into the familiar teardrop shapes of Boris'. All he had to do to get rid of the tail was chop it off, and the lack of a widow's peak was repaired with a pen and some whiteout. As for the overalls, he already had them prepared and set to the side.

Now he just needed it to wake up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bit of a description for ToonSwap Murray, I guess. You wouldn't even know it was Murray without reading this note/the context of chapter 11. It's pretty short, too. And Joey's being a loony. Whoops.
> 
> Taking prompts, but please leave them on chapter 8. It's got the rules/guidelines and I want to keep those comments in one place anyways.


	15. Silent

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Neither Boris or Murray had been particularly aware individuals, but both of them were smart enough to know when something was wrong. Now was one of those times.
> 
> Main AU, sequel to chapters 11 (Perfect Match) and 14 (Fixing Errors).

It woke up slowly, probably over the course of half an hour, drifting in and out of sleep, but it finally opened its eyes, greeted by the sight of a very tired-looking man with a necktie and bowler hat. The man grinned at it when he finally noticed it looking at him. “Hey there, buddy! Do you remember your name?” The creature stared silently at the floor for a good minute or two before looking back up at the man with the tie and shook its head. It couldn't remember anything except blurred images and sounds that disappeared as soon as it tried to focus on them. “Ah, okay. You're Boris! You're a wolf.” 'Boris' tilted its head slightly. That didn't sound quite right, but it didn't have anything else to go by, so that would have to work for now.

“Alright, do you know my name?” 'Boris' shook its head again. “My name's Joey Drew. I'm one of the people who created you. Well, technically I created this you, but I only helped with the original.” The toon blinked at him rather owlishly. “Uh, can you try and say something?” 'Boris' opened its mouth so it could attempt to make a noise, but nothing came out, so it just shook its head. The look on Joey's face turned from friendly to disappointed and angry in a split second, startling the wolf sitting before him. The human quickly grabbed the toon by the straps of its overalls and tossed it out of his office, immediately going back to his desk as he began muttering to himself. He'd been so close this time...

'Boris' stared at the door that it had just been shoved out of as it slammed shut, but whirled around to face one end of the hallway it was now in when it heard heavy footfalls. Survival instincts took hold and it pelted away, easily getting itself lost in the maze-like building.

Disoriented and alone, 'Boris' quietly wandered through the area until it found a place it could barricade off to keep away the things in the dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apparently I can't write over a page long anymore. Shit.
> 
> Prompts are open, but please leave them on chapter 8. That's where you can find the guidelines.


	16. Koru Takes Artistic Liberties On Everything In The Universe: Ink= Acid Edition

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sammy startles himself with a mirror.  
> A.K.A. "That one where Koru tried to write feels but failed miserably".
> 
> Takes place in some random offshoot of the main AU.

Sammy jumped slightly when he caught sight of his reflection in the mirror at the end of the hall. He quietly walked up to it, though whether it was to reaffirm that he truly looked like this now or to hope that looking at it would snap him out of whatever trance he might have thought he was in was up to debate.

Eyes that had once been a bright green but were now washed out and nearly white, almost looking like they were trying to escape his eye sockets, stared back at him expressionlessly. Skin and flesh had long since peeled away from his jaws, displaying a toothy grin that he doubted he could ever really live up to again and slurring his words. What little remained of his face was scarred and twisted beyond recognition, to the point that even his freckles had vanished. His hair, at one point pretty much the only part of himself he took proper care of, was dull and straggly, hanging limp over his brows.

His lanky limbs were marred far beyond hope of reconstruction, though his legs had suffered the worst of it. He wasn't even sure what he had now could be counted as feet. They were mostly just unidentifiable lumps of tissue that he could put shoes over. The hands he had trained to play his instruments perfectly were charred to hell and back, some fingers fused together and one flat-out missing in order to resemble the cartoons he had helped create, though a few had been spared. He couldn't even wear his wedding ring anymore.

He let out a soft sigh as he placed his hand on the mirror, mimicking an attempt to hold his reflection's paw-like hand. He'd just wanted to have a normal life when Henry had taken him back home with the toons, but now he would just have to stay barricaded away from society until his new “family” could find a way to fix him, if that even happened.

He hadn't even noticed Bendy until the childish devil had started holding his limp hand, but he was grateful for the support, no matter how small it was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Does this count as body horror? It would probably be worse if I actually drew this design, wouldn't it? I should do that sometime, it sounds like fun.
> 
> Anyway, kid Bendy and sad Sammy are the two things I love but struggle with writing the most, so here's a thing with both so it's 2x as terrible. Yay!
> 
> Prompts are closed at the moment. Sorry, but I've got some more personal stories and art that I need to work on. They're all still BatIM-related, though.


	17. Smudged Memories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 'Boris' doesn't really know much about what happened before it was 'Boris', but it knows that there _was_ a before and sometimes it recalls snippets. It just needs a little help.
> 
> Main AU, sequel to chapters 11, 14, and 15. Vaguely wondering if I should make a name for this series/make its own little collection or not since it's canon to my main AU but definitely not to the game.

'Boris' sits cross-legged at its table, foot bouncing in the air to an imaginary rhythm. It doesn't remember the name of the song, who composed it, or even what most of the instruments were supposed to be, but it remembers that it likes the song, so it doesn't let its mind stick to that train of thought for very long. Sometimes the song filters through the pipes from one of the upper floors, played by an old radio or maybe a gramophone, and it's probably the only reason 'Boris' even knows the melody. When the song is real, and can actually be heard, 'Boris' thinks that maybe it could recall the face or name of the person who wrote it if it played for long enough. Unfortunately it isn't played very often, and 'Boris' can't figure out why. It thinks it's a nice song.

Other times, it looks at the pipes when they make too much noise on their own, and it hears something in its head telling it to fix the pipes if it wants to keep its job. It doesn't know why. It doesn't have a job. Sometimes it gives in to the too-deep voice in its head and tries to repair the pipes, and it usually succeeds, though another part of the pipe tends to break just outside the safehouse as soon as it's finished with the bit it was working on.

It squirrels away random objects that it brings back to the safehouse on the rare occasion that it actually leaves. It doesn't understand why, but it connects with some of the objects. A wrench, an ink-stained gear, an old sketchbook, a record or two, and any recordings it can get its hands on. It recognizes most of the voices, and though it can't place a name or face to any of them, it gets comfort from the idea that it might not be alone. It doesn't think any of the voices used to be the one it had, though, since none of them match the voice in its head that tells it to fix or build things, and it still can't talk. It thinks that it would remember how to talk if it heard the voice it must have had at one point.

A few times it found clothes. A shirt and bowtie, vivid purple and bubblegum pink respectively, for the first time. It can just barely place them with green eyes every once in a while. The second time it found an old, pale blue bowler hat. It's unreasonably attached to that one. The most recent accessory it recovered was a single black stocking. It likes that one even more than the hat. It associates it with cigarette smoke and laughter and pretty hair and good friends.

Sometimes it finds books or nametags or little napkins with words on them, but it doesn't know how to read. It probably did at some point and it can still read the letters on their own, but actual words have difficulty forming, so it doesn't really bother trying anymore. Instead it cherishes the handwriting, tries to recall who wrote what, attempts to copy the writing and develop its own style. It doesn't work, but it's fun, so 'Boris' keeps doing it.

Occasionally it finds things it doesn't really know what to do with. Notebooks with an H hastily scribbled on the front, a stack of letters addressed to J and S, and an old, empty inkwell with an equally dry pen and the same H labeled on it. It looked through the notebooks a couple times. The person that used them was a good artist.

Once it thought it might have finally remembered something. The letter M, dark hair, closed eyes, the want to sleep for as long as possible. It was probably right about having remembered that, but it slipped through its mind with the same ease that ink slips through its fingers when it tries to block a hole in the pipes.

It continues to stare purposelessly at the wall, as unblinking and seemingly free of emotion as ever. Internally, it's going through every memory it has, hoping something will turn up.

Nothing ever does.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HOORAY FOR VAGUE-AS-FUCK BULLSHIT ALLUDING TO RANDOM CHARACTERS AND DUMB HEADCANONS
> 
> (psst prompts are done for now since I've got other things to be working on at the moment but they should be open again in time for the holidays)


	18. All In Black and White

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Joey is aware of his differences, and he doesn't let them bother him much. But that isn't going to stop him from being glad when the main one leaves.
> 
> Part of the Sepiatone AU.

Joey had known he wasn't normal ever since his parents had tried to teach him which colors were what for the second time.

“Joey,” his father sighed, “that's red. It's not blue.” Joey just blinked up at his parents. “But they look the same. They don't change if I look at the other one.” His mother gave him a concerned glance. “Honey, they're different colors.” Joey looked back down at the paper, then back up at his parents. “One's a little lighter than the other, I guess.” His father shook his head slightly.

Joey had learned he was colorblind a few days later. It hadn't really changed his life much, but he started asking his parents if the clothes he wanted matched before he got them.  
//////////////////////////////////////////////  
Sometimes, after he'd met Henry and Sammy, they'd go out to watch a movie, get something to eat, or maybe just walk around for the sake of it. Occasionally they would go to the park to see if they could spot any birds. They'd stayed late once or twice, whether that be from talking, forgetting they were supposed to go home, or even just one of them (typically Sammy) falling asleep. The first time that had happened was rather awkward.

“Hey, Henry? Why are you looking at the sky like that?” Joey asked. Henry jolted slightly, as if he'd been snapped out of a trance, then looked over to Joey. “Well, the sun's setting, and I sort of want to make a painting or drawing of it, so I'm studying the colors. Why do you ask?” Joey scratched at his cheek. “I guess I just don't really understand it. I don't see colors, so I've never really thought to look at it like that.” Henry glanced back at the sky for a second, then patted Joey's shoulder, smiling softly.

It had taken a while to explain it to Sammy when he'd finally woken up, but he didn't press afterwards.  
//////////////////////////////////////////////  
Joey came to dazed and confused after the machine had shut down, and simply laid there for a while, waiting for the headache to go away. It took what felt like hours, but it eventually faded enough for him to sit up.

As Joey looked around, he realized that his vision was hazy, and that his body didn't feel right, like something had shifted or twisted. He quickly tried to blink whatever it was that was messing with his eyesight, shaking his head when he could finally see clearly. He glanced down at himself, immediately noticing that he either wasn't wearing the same shirt as before or it had been stained beyond recognition. He tried to straighten out his shirt, but pulled his hand back when he felt it press against bare skin rather than fabric, and let out a startled yelp when he took a closer look at his hand, which was now four-fingered and covered by a stained white glove. He checked his other hand, finding that while it was gloved, it was still five-fingered, and much smaller than the other one. He pressed his head into his hands, trying to keep himself relatively upright, hyperventilating loudly.

Once he managed to calm himself down, Joey noticed something that was... _odd,_ to say the least. Normally he only would have seen in what his friends and family had informed him were black, white and gray, but now it was overlayed with- well, with something. He didn't see color when he was awake, but sometimes when he slept he would see what he guessed were colors. The overlay in his vision certainly seemed to match one of them. Joey carefully stood up, and promptly smacked his head on the ceiling. He groaned slightly, rubbed at his head, and limped over to the door, ducking through it with some difficulty. He would have to find his cane at some point.

He stumbled down the hallways of the first floor towards Henry's old desk, and leaned up against it when he got to it in order to keep himself steady, eventually deciding to sit down on the chair in front of it. He quietly opened one of the drawers in the desk, rifling through it with his smaller hand. He knew Henry liked working with colored pencils, and he wouldn't have put it past his friend to forget one of his sketchbooks at the studio before he had to move away. If Joey could manage to find one of them, he would have a test ready to check with his new vision. He let out a triumphant “a-ha!” as he yanked a notebook out of the drawer, and opened it as quickly as he could without ripping any of the pages. He flicked through the notebook, looking for a drawing that was in something other than charcoal or a no. 2 pencil. It didn't take long to find one with the waxy finish distinctive to Henry's colored pencils, though he probably wouldn't have noticed it if it didn't have the shine.

Joey stared down at the drawing- it was of a dragon- for a few minutes, completely silent, a grin slowly growing on his face until it hurt. He didn't know the names of them, but he was able to see the colors that had been used to make it.

The creatures on the lower floors were awoken by manic cackling from the upper levels of the studio.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Something I made out of boredom. Joey being colorblind isn't canon to my main AU, it's just an idea I wanted to play with.
> 
> My apologies, but prompts are closed for the moment. I have little-to-no creative drive for _anything_ at the moment, not even drawing or writing.


	19. In Which Sammy Lawrence Forgets How Gravity Works

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> To be fair, it can be a bit disorienting when you suddenly wake up with a terrible headache in a body you're about 95% sure isn't actually yours.
> 
> Bit more of a humorous take on something that actually does happen in the main AU, because I love doing stupid/painful shit to my favorites.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually have an important announcement to make, so please check out the end notes when you're done with this story! Or just skip the story and see what the hell's got me so hyped. You can do that too.

It had taken Sammy a while to get used to his new form.

Firstly, everything was sticky and awful. It had taken him forever to even get his arms un-stuck from his torso after his first few... nights? Days? It was hard to tell- trapped in the studio, since he was accustomed to sleeping on his side. Nowadays he didn't even bother with sleeping at all, though the memory of the experience was still rather traumatic when it somehow managed to sneak back into his head every once in a while.

After that, an equally traumatic event had happened when he realized, “Holy fuck, I don't have feet.” Well, technically he did, but he was hesitant to compare paws to human feet. Whether that was from Bendy or Boris, he had no clue, though he suspected Joey had attempted to turn him into the former.

Then, of course, was the painfully embarrassing moment that had occurred when he tried to walk for the first time, and apparently hadn't entirely registered that human tap shoes and digitigrade paws did not, can not, and will not ever, _ever_ mix. He was honestly rather amazed that nobody had run into the room at the unfortunately loud crash he made when he hit the floor, and was actually quite glad that nobody had been around to witness him curled up in a little ball from how much his tailbone hurt.

When he had taken his shoes off and finally managed to get his balance (after several more falls and a humiliating amount of tears and whining), he'd tried to walk out of the orchestra room, only to smack his head on the doorframe. While he had eventually forced himself up off of the floor again, he'd simply stared at the doorframe as if he hadn't known that such things existed before just then. After some time, he was able to teach himself how to duck under things and not fall over, but that still took far too long for his liking.

It had also taken him even longer to comprehend that he had fucking _paws,_ weird little pads and claws and everything.

Actually, scratch that, he still wasn't over it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aGH HEY HEY HI, SORRY I HAVEN'T BEEN UPLOADING FOR SUCH A LONG TIME. My writing inspiration left me high and dry for **way** too long... and, unfortunately, I may be gone for a while again, though this time with some mixed news.
> 
> So, on the shitty side of the newspaper, I'm probably going to be gone for a while again after I post this, partially because this week is going to be an absolute _shitshow_ because of convention preparation, art class, sewing class, general anxiety and just   
>  Y I K E S ™
> 
> On the brighter side, though, I have some important information! A friend and I have made a BatIM-themed ask blog, and it's been part of what's been taking up so much of my time. However, we haven't gotten any asks yet, so that's where you guys come in (hopefully). Here's a link to the blog- https://askbendysquad.tumblr.com/ - feel free to send us some asks, we've been setting this up for almost a year now. Anon is enabled, so you don't need to have a Tumblr account to chat with our Bendys.
> 
> Also, my apologies, but requests are still off. I barely have enough motivation to finish my own stories, I don't want to leave you guys hangin' if you send me an idea and don't hear back from me.


	20. That's Just Confusing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bendy has a cold, which just begs the question;
> 
> How does a cartoon get sick?
> 
> Kind of main AU?

Murray let out a small sigh in response to the pitiful sniffle the toon next to him gave. Murray was the only person other than Sammy and Joey himself who was allowed near Bendy- the little devil needed to get used to the studio, after all, and it was something he couldn't do if he was always at someone else's house, and Murray had been chosen as the one to keep an eye on Bendy since he was the only nightshift worker in the studio. It didn't stop him from not particularly understanding how to take care of kids, but when the bosses made up their minds on something they weren't to be deterred. Bendy pulled a handkerchief out of a nonexistent pocket and sneezed into it. Murray huffed loudly and hoped it wasn't possible to catch illnesses from cartoons.

Actually, that just brought up the question of how Bendy had even gotten sick in the first place. Murray set his wrench down on the stool next to them and bent down to the toon's level. “You up to talkin', kiddo, or does your throat hurt too much?” Bendy gave him a weak smile. “Yeah, I'm up to it. I _have_ gotten kinda better, y'know.” Murray attempted to consider his words, but just went with his original question. “What even got you sick? I didn't think toons could get sick.” Bendy gave him a surprisingly thoughtful look for being somewhat delirious from a lack of sleep, a situation Murray understood far too well. “Yanno, I actually dunno, but I think Wally had a cold last week and Papa said I might'a gotten it from him.” Murray shrugged, mumbling “Yeah, that's probably it,” and went back to the pipe he was trying to fix only to find that he'd actually repaired it and had just gotten distracted by the conversation.

Bendy coughed into his elbow and tugged at Murray's pant leg. “Uncle Murray, Papa said the pipes in the sound department need to be fixed before Uncle Norman tears his head off. I don't think he actually meant it, but I just wanna be sure.” Murray chuckled and shook his head. “Nah, Norman wouldn't do that. C'mon, let's see if I can remember which door is for the elevator. Someone really ought to label that thing.” Bendy nodded, a huge grin on his face, and clung to Murray's leg as the man tried to find the elevator room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact- literally the only reason this exists is because I also have a really bad cold and am probably more miserable than Bendy is, so if this chapter's more unfocused and weird than most of the other ones it might be that. Or I've just forgotten how to write properly, could be that, too. Murray is here because I decided that if I was going to write something I might as well figure out how I want to characterize the way he acts around Bendy. Also, when Bendy says 'Papa', he's referring to Joey because I'm a sucker for weird families.
> 
> Requests still aren't open again yet.
> 
> Here's a link to an ask blog a friend and I are running. We have some new characters we'd like to introduce, but she won't let me until we actually get some asks (buzzkill). https://askbendysquad.tumblr.com/


	21. The Toymaker

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Henry gets a new guide after 'Alice' abducts Boris.
> 
> Takes place in the main AU.

There weren't a lot of things Henry was completely sure about, but something he knew for a fact was that whatever the thing standing over him was seemed to be in an even worse state than the rest of the creatures inhabiting the studio, though its clothes were in a better state than Sammy's had been.

The creature looming in front of him wasn't taller than Henry- not by a long shot- but it was certainly more intimidating. It didn't matter how tall Henry was, anything that was humanoid but didn't have a proper face was instantly scarier than someone in their fifties. Its head was completely hairless, it had large buttons sewn to its head in place of eyes and a crooked, painted-on smile where its mouth should have been. Its left arm had been replaced entirely with a wooden replica from the elbow down, and the right had an incredibly oversized rotary cutter strapped to it, though it was otherwise normal. It wore white slacks held up by a black belt with a silver clasp, and the ends of the pant legs had been stuffed into Wellington boots that nearly went up to its knees. The monster held out its wooden hand to Henry and let out a noise just like the squeak toys from earlier when he held on.

The strange amalgam of tools yanked Henry up to his feet, shifting slightly when he stumbled a bit and bumped into it. It looked up at Henry for a second, then seemed to make a decision as it gripped his hand a little tighter and led him off down the hallway. The main hall was extremely bland, not containing anything more interesting than a few slowly churning gears mounted on the walls, though some of the branching paths looked simultaneously fascinating and horrifying. Henry's new guide stopped, looked around for a few seconds and abruptly turned to the side before stomping off down one of the thinner, more nondescript passages. It found what it was looking for pretty quickly, latching onto a doorknob that it used to open the door and stepped aside to let Henry through. He would have questioned the whole situation, but he was tired and honestly pretty sure he had a concussion by now so he just walked through the door without saying anything.

The room he entered was stuffed to the brim with colorful fabrics, buttons of varying sizes and shapes, squeakers, an entire shelf stocked full of what looked like patterns for clothes and stuffed animals, spools of thread- most of which had needles stabbed into the paper on top- and a single sewing machine on a surprisingly mess-free desk. All it was missing to belong in some little old grandma's home were framed pictures of grandchildren. Instead of those, there were little patches of space that were free of everything except plushies that had been made incorrectly. Then a few pieces of information started to line up in Henry's head.

This creature hoarded sewing supplies, held onto toys it hadn't made properly, wore Wellington boots and had a crooked smile.

“Shawn?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a take on what might happen in chapter 4 from before it's been released. And yes, I know it's not going to happen. Also I really hope Shawn ends up being some kind of toy-related monster instead of a Butcher Gang member, I just think it would be cooler. Might add a picture of the Toymaker when I inevitably draw him.
> 
> Requests are still closed and my friend and I's blog is still https://askbendysquad.tumblr.com/  
> Please send us asks, we're bored and want to add new characters but can't until we get some actual interest in our blog!


	22. Herald

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Henry meets the Lost Ones.
> 
> Takes place in the Light in the Dark AU.

You look around the room silently, and while you know you would normally have a very different reaction if you weren't so mind-numbingly tired, you can't help but think it looks like a wood cabin from hell, filled with demonic vagrants. Someone's crying in the corner, and you just can't bring yourself to care. It would take too much energy. The scrawny figures stare at you, and you stare back. Then one of them speaks, its voice slow and scratchy, like it hasn't spoken in years. It probably hasn't.

“You aren't our Prophet.” It's a simple statement, and while it isn't menacing and the one who said it sounds more disappointed than angry, it cuts through you like a blade made of ice. Another one starts talking. “Where is Father Lawrence? Where is Sammy?” You glance over to the writing next to the vent in the wall. 'No angels! He will set us free.' These are the rest of Sammy's cult, then. A very small figure- almost child-like, actually- looks up at you from behind a taller one's legs. “What happened to Mr. Lawrence, sir?” You sigh and shake your head slowly. “I'm not sure, but I wouldn't be optimistic.” One of them laughs bitterly. “None of us are optimistic; the ones that were died off a long time ago.” Another looks down at its feet like it's remembering something, then up at you. It almost looks hopeful.

“You can be our stand-in until we learn what happened to the Prophet.” A few of them look at each other and they start murmuring to one another. “Yes,” a tall one says, “you could help us.” There's a couple nods and mumbles of affirmation from the group, and one that looks slightly less sickly than the rest stumbles over to you with a Bendy mask in its hands. The mask is a sphere and could easily fit over your entire head, though you aren't too keen on wearing it. The one holding the mask shoves it into your hands and says “Wear this one. The Angel doesn't attack us very often, though she seems to hate humans like yourself.” You stare down at the object apprehensively; the only thing it really looks like it could do is slowly filter out all breathable air until you have to take it off again, but it isn't a terrible suggestion. Joey's given you stupider ideas before.

The tallest one walks over to you with a surprisingly steady gait and takes the mask from your hands, then clumsily puts it over your head. You're honestly amazed you can still see. The one that was crying has stopped its sobbing and is standing on its toes so it can glance at you over the shoulders of its companions, murmuring something about a herald. The one who's not as scrawny as the others gives you a grin with rather astonishingly white teeth and takes your hands in its own.

“You are now our Herald- a new light in the dark. You can lead us out of here far better than the Ink Demon ever could.”

Something makes you think you won't do much better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Lost Ones make me feel things and I don't like it. Stop making me sad, game.


End file.
